Contrary to what I might have expected, it wasn't in her eyes
that I saw her disappointment. It was in my head, a ceaseless litany
of things I had done, things I had neglected to do. It might not be nearly as romantic
, but I understand her well enough to know what she is feeling, without having to read for it in her eyes.
It is in my eyes, however, that it takes hold.
It's an almost tangible
thing, a pressure, or an ache, in my skull. With every dumb thing
I do, with every time I've neglected to be there for her, it builds. I fear that soon, it will overwhelm my capacity to contain it, and it will fill my head, adding to the considerable noise, making any attempts at communication useless. I simply will not be able to hear her
, above the sound; let alone be attentive, be considerate, be a lover.
I watch myself
act, sometimes. I watch from a disassociated vantage point, and I scream at myself not to be so stupid, not to plant the seeds for such a spectacular self-destruction
-- but it is like a dream, where you can only watch yourself interacting with the world, and do nothing to stop it, having as much substance as a ghost.
It is from this vantage that I know I am the one in the wrong, that I am the one who needs to change, to repair the damage before it becomes beyond my ability to control
I do not know if I have the focused desire, and restraint
that is necessary to take such an action, and follow through.
For the past two weeks, I haven't been going to bed with her. Instead, I choose to sit at the computer, staring at a black screen, hoping to force the words out somehow. Hoping that, through the act of transferring emotions into photoshop
, or notepad
, I can rid myself of this poison, and continue with my life. Every night, however, I return to my room some seven hours later, having accomplished nothing.
When I lie in bed, the noise overwhelms
me. I cannot force the thoughts out of my head, and I cannot stop thinking long enough to sleep. I am often awake until very nearly the time when she leaves, wordlessly.
There is something wrong with this, that two people who love each other can co-exist perpetually
, with a chill between them.
I have never been so lost.